The morning air was thick with quiet as Dana stepped into the office, her shoulders slumped under the weight of an invisible burden. “Morning,” she muttered, barely glancing at her colleagues as she sank into her chair. The grey sky outside mirrored her mood, the rain tapping softly against the windows like an unwelcome guest.
“Morning,” replied Olivia and Gemma, exchanging a puzzled look. Dana was usually the one who brightened the room, her cheerful chatter a staple of their small team. Today, though, her silence was heavy, her lips pressed into a thin line.
There were three of them in the office: Dana, thirty, a married mother of one, quiet and composed; Olivia, the eldest at thirty-six, a whirlwind of energy with two children; and Gemma, the youngest at twenty-seven, living with her boyfriend but unmarried. Olivia, ever the social glue, broke the stillness first.
“Fancy a cuppa, girls?” she said, already on her feet and heading for the kettle. “Won’t be a tick.”
“Sounds lovely,” Gemma chimed in. Dana said nothing.
When Olivia returned with three steaming mugs, Dana barely acknowledged hers, her gaze fixed on the rain-streaked glass. Gemma tried to lighten the mood. “Ta, Olivia. You’re a lifesaver.”
They shared a laugh, but Dana’s smile was fleeting. Olivia couldn’t take it anymore. “Dana, love, what’s eating you? Did we do something?”
Dana shook her head. “No, it’s not you. It’s… family. Well, not even family. More like… in-laws.”
“Not Emily again?” Gemma groaned. “Honestly, you’ve got to let it go. Carrying all that around isn’t healthy.”
“How can I?” Dana’s voice wavered. “We’re practically on top of each other—two houses on the same plot. My Daniel acts like he doesn’t notice a thing. His brother, James, is decent enough. But Emily? She’s a nightmare. Last night, I finally snapped. Told her exactly what I thought. Now I don’t know how we’re meant to carry on like this.”
When Dana married Daniel, his father had built two identical houses side by side: one for his eldest, James, and one for Daniel. They’d moved in after the wedding, neighbours to James and Emily. But barely a week later, tragedy struck—Daniel and James’s parents died in a car crash. The brothers were left alone, their families sharing the same patch of land.
At first, it was bearable. Both women had children around the same time, and life seemed to run smoothly. But slowly, Dana began to see how different she and Emily were.
Emily was loud, brash, always stirring the pot. Dana was quiet, happiest in the stillness of her own home, savouring a morning cuppa in peace. Daniel, much like her, was calm and steady. They fit perfectly.
“I’ve never been one for big crowds,” Dana confessed. “My family is my world. Daniel, our boy—that’s all I need.”
Emily, though, saw things differently.
“We’re all one family,” she’d insist. “Why keep to yourselves? We should stick together.”
But it wasn’t just talk. Emily acted as if the entire property was hers. She waltzed into Dana’s home unannounced, meddled in their affairs, never knocked.
“Oops, thought you’d be up!” she’d say, slamming the door behind her.
On weekends, when Dana stole a rare quiet moment with her tea, Emily would materialise at the window. “Oh, making one? Fetch me a cup, then!” And just like that, the peace was shattered.
“Sometimes I just want to be alone,” Dana would tell Daniel. “But it’s like she *knows*.”
Speaking up felt impossible. Good manners held her tongue. Even James, Emily’s husband, had scolded her. “Leave them be, Em. You wouldn’t like it if they did the same to you.”
Then, last night, after a gruelling week, Dana ordered takeaway—a little treat for their son’s straight-As report card. The moment she stepped outside, Emily barrelled over.
“Takeaway? You got takeaway and didn’t tell me? What’s wrong with you?” The barrage of insults that followed left Dana speechless. Daniel tried to calm things, but Emily’s tantrum echoed across the garden. James dragged her inside, but the shouting lingered.
Back in her own house, Dana finally broke. “Why do I have to justify every little thing? It’s *our* night, *our* meal! She’s always in our business, always shouting. All we want is *peace*.”
Now, in the office, her colleagues listened, aghast.
“Ten years of this?” Olivia gasped. “I’d have chucked her out years ago. Sod that.”
“You’ve got your own family,” Gemma said firmly. “Your husband, your boy. The rest? Let them get on with it.”
Dana exhaled. “I’ve always stayed quiet. Always let it slide. But not anymore. Next time, I’ll stand my ground. Manners be damned.”
Outside, the rain still fell. But for the first time in years, something inside Dana felt lighter. She’d realised—she had a right to silence. To peace. To a life without someone else’s noise bleeding through the walls.
